From A Tire Swing
by notaguitar
Summary: Chris and Leon in Bulgaria. Just a little drunken wandering and a kiss.


"This is careless, even for you, Kennedy," Chris' voice was rigged, but showed potential for loosening. "It's late."

"Relax, we won't be gone ten minutes." A bald faced lie, but that was sort of Leon's strong-point. And Chris was always lenient with him, never as strict or rule-abiding as he probably should have been.

Leon couldn't remember the exact name of the village they were in ( he blamed that one on the whiskey ), but it was in Bulgaria, somewhere Northwestern. Large, but not at all like the confusing labyrinth of European architecture that Italy or France offered, this city was cozy. Nestled near the Black Sea, close enough to visit the water, but with it's housing far away enough to not be bothered by the sounds the ocean often invited, it was a beautiful place. It would be criminal to not take advantage of exploring the country a bit, even if it was limited to an extremely small portion of it.

"Think I saw a park'round here," Leon murmured, more to himself as the two strolled, shoulders bonking together as each man was more than a little tipsy.

"You think?"

"Ok, I did."

An unconvincing argument, but after stumbling through a series of empty streets and some less-than-friendly alleys, it became much more plausible. A sign, decorated with Bulgarian writing and the carving of a tree came into view.

Recognizing it vaguely, but enough to display child-like excitement, Leon grabbed Chris by the forearm, tugging the larger man into a light jog.

"Asparuhov! Should'a known that," Leon laughed, now the name of village came back to him. Asparahovo, and this must have been the village's prized park. Sort of like a city park, Leon guessed. He hadn't spoke to many locals, but he wondered if they had the same sort of ideals that they did in North America, valuing nature and all that shit. It seemed likely as, even in the scarce lighting the streetlamps provided, the park was in good condition.

As Leon turned to gloat his geographical prowess, a tire-swing caught his eye, putting any braggery on immediate hold. A devious grin set on his lips then as he brought the bottle of whiskey to his mouth.

And Chris wasn't begrudging when he gave the younger man an almost fatherly nod of consent. Being impulsive wasn't exactly in his own nature, it was a trait that Leon roused in him. Together they were a duo of considerable intimidation. They had the uncanny ability to face almost anything and pull through, and usually saved the world doing it. But now, in this small park on the coast of the Black Sea, you wouldn't be able to tell them apart from young teenaged lovers.

"Get on," Leon urged, as he shoved the tire swing towards Chris. It swayed lazily before the rope groaned and stiffened, causing it to fall back to Leon's waiting hand.

"S'not exactly my size," Chris said, waving his hand dismissively at the idea. The drop in Leon's expression was almost enough to draw out more from Chris, but before he could say anything else, Leon was in front of him, pushing their brown-bagged bottle of whiskey into his hands.

"Suit yourself, Captain," and with that, Leon was climbing onto the swing. Dirt was clotted thick within the treads of the old tire, as to be expected, but the night hid that fact— and even if it hadn't, Chris had no doubt that Leon would have climbed aboard it if it had been covered in pins.

Once the gentle swaying of the swing had eased, and Leon was sitting a top it, weighing it down enough so his feet could rest flat on the gravel, Chris took a seat beside him. Raising his arm, to make an impromptu arm-rest from Leon's knees, Chris gazed up at that star speckled sky.

"Some night," he noted, tossing back a swig of the whiskey. And maybe sneaking off together hadn't been the worst idea Leon had come up with.

"Some night," Leon echoed in nearly a whisper. Only, Chris' keen ear could tell the other man was not at all admiring the stars, rather, he was looking at him.

Chris turned his head then, only to have his jaw seized in Leon's loose, but careful grip. The blonde leaned down, awkwardly from the top of the tire, until their lips met for a soft, whiskey-tasting kiss.


End file.
